The Death of Words

I read an interesting article here. It is about the oldest words in language and how language evolves. The article, for the most part, is complete bunk, but I became fixated on one part of the piece: Words that are evolving rapidly, and likely to disappear. According to Mark Pagel, a researcher, the following words fall into this category:

Dirty, squeeze, bad, because, guts, push (verb), smell (verb), stab, stick (noun), turn (verb), wipe.

His rationale is that these already differ greatly between related languages, such as English and German, and are good candidates to evolve into new forms. I think the man just randomly picked a group of words that he heard parents say on a daily basis and branded them as such. Well, ok, so maybe not stab and guts - that he got from playing Call of Duty too many times.

I'll throw out that it is the advent of texting that is creating a whole new language and means of communication. "Because" evolves to "cause" evolves to "cuz"? I offer this link of texting abbreviations as some flimsy evidence for my theory (which I am sure is not new or enlightening). I only have a few committed to memory and figure I will never learn to be an extensive texter. Really, when am I ever going to need to know how to text EMRTW (Evil Monkeys Rule The World). Speaking of, I am going phone shopping this week. Since they no longer make a car charger for my phone, I gather my phone is obsolete. I lag behind the technological times.

I have a friend who teaches communications on the college level. She recently posted that she has students who actually answer questions on papers, exams, etc. with texting abbreviations. Clearly, we are regressing. Sad.

Hitting the Slopes

Skiing, in its entirety, goes against every fiber of my being. I blogged about my various fears and quick to panic moments here. Those that heard we were taking a family ski trip this past weekend must have thought about that post and wondered if I had completely lost my mind. It just screams panic for me, doesn't it? And here is why:

1. You must drive into and out of the mountains in order to actually participate in the sport.

2. You must ride a seemingly rickety and ratty chairlift to various drop-off points, high above the ground separated only by a metal bar that is completely controlled by you at any point in time.

3. You must propel yourself down a mountain with little or no control as a beginner.

4. The feeling of being out of control is like nausea, coming out of nowhere, with no warning or preparation. But, you know it is coming with each new decline.

5. You must use muscles you have not used since that one extreme yoga class you swore you would never attend again.

Despite all of this working against me, I remembered how much I love to ski. I know, it makes no sense. I actually drove up to Sugar Mountain (don't you just love that name) while Jay worked on his laptop, via his mobile phone/wireless connection and speaking to his office on my phone. What propelled me over the fear of being in control of a vehicle in the mountains is that I listened to TobyMac on Ethan's mp3 player. I was in the zone with nothing to think about, but the words to his songs. I know it is illegal to have headphones on while driving, but I believe the general population was way safer with me clued into TM than fixated on the steep drop-offs and my ability to drive straight down them.

I have never really thought too much about chairlifts. I remember several years ago Jay and I took the kids to Tweetsie Railroad. You could ride a chairlift up to the top of the mountain where there was a petting zoo and maybe a couple of other rides. We all got into one lift (I don't know how), but guess who starts freaking out? Jay. So much so that he made us all ride the school bus shuttle down the mountain rather than get back on the lift. He couldn't believe we were allowed to bring small children onto that "death trap." I hadn't really given it much thought until this weekend. Jay and I decided to leave the kids back at the condo with the sitter and head out for some night skiing. While in the dark and fog, Jay decides to recount the story which brings rise to panic for me. Finally, when we reach the top of the mountain, my legs are already a little jiggly just from thinking about the stinking chairlift's safety. Then, I had to start skiing down a more challenging slope from the top of the mountain. That was a long, long way down.

I am not an experienced skier. In fact, I took an hour lesson to brush up on what little knowledge I had gained from the last time I went skiing...15 years ago. As a beginner, you teeter between control and out of control constantly. In two days/nights of skiing, I fell. It wasn't a lot - maybe 6 times, but when I did, it wasn't pretty. Face forward falling never is. The best bit of skiing I did was at night, probably because I couldn't really see just how steep the intermediate slope was. And, try as I might, there were times when I knew my arms were flailing, my legs fighting to plow (or make a pizza wedge as they call it now) and I just wanted to let myself go...go right off the side of the mountain rather than fight against my body any more. Despite all of this, I can't wait to go back. The beginner slopes were easy and fun, almost too simple and I can see where as your skills progress the more advanced slopes will be, too.

I do understand the allure of staying in a place with a hot tub. Sunday was a little slow getting out of bed. But by Monday...whoa. Jay and I have hobbled around the house easing out little moans and groans as we traverse the stairs. I still don't get how my arms are as sore as they are...unless the flailing was much worse than I imagine. I know, flailing makes it worse, but sometimes you just can't help it.

The kids did great. Ethan and Sadie were zipping down the intermediate slopes by themselves by the end of the weekend. Sadie liked to know I was behind her. Little did she know I would not have been able to help her if she needed me, but there was comfort for her in that ignorance. I did have an interesting conversation with Sadie on the chairlift:
She said, "Mommy, are you scared about skiing?"
Me: "No, not too bad, why?"
Sadie: "Because Daddy said you were a scaredy-cat."
Me: "He did?" (thinking I have something to say to him)
Sadie: "Yes, but I told him you weren't. You are brave, you know, for a Mommy."
Me: "And, what did he say?"
Sadie: "That maybe you were only a giblet bit scared."
Me: "Well, he is probably right about that one."

Lily was not quite strong enough to make turns, but did manage to stay above her skis. She was a cute little bundled up snow bunny. Next year, she will be old enough to be in ski school. Jay and I agreed that we may finally have found something that the whole family enjoys doing together.

Give it Away Part 2

And I quote:

"I ask...God forgive me. I am ready and willing, in prayer and meditation, to give it all away for You."

What the heck was I thinking writing that? Not that it was insincere, because I meant every word at the time I wrote it. But, did I really think through the possible ramifications of that statement? Ummmm....no!

As evident in my blog posts and other writings over the last couple of months, I have been put to the fire, tested, drawn out, worked over, revealed, pushed, and I might just go so far as to us the big "s" word. I have suffered. I thought it just couldn't get any worse, and frankly the last couple of weeks I appeared to rebound. I likened it to a faucet that was abruptly turned off. All the gunk coming at me was shut-off like a switch. Life moved back into its routine and rhythm and I had a brief moment of peace. And, then, I had to go write something like that.

Now, I know this hasn't been a physical suffering, at least not at age 37. Only a fraction would even notice that all of this cesspool has been churning inside me. I have learned well and fast that suffering can never compared. And, always, I mean always you can find someone that is "suffering" more more than you. But in my own life, this is the low of lows. The challenge of challenges. The reveal and pain of reveals and pains. And so, to not say it is suffering for me would be denying all that I am dealing with. I am done with denial.

I like to stuff things down. I am a stuffer. Well, maybe not completely, but on the really painful stuff, oh yeah. It is easy as pie to cram it into a box, superglue it and leave in the back recess of your mind. You know, it can sit there for years, not bothering anyone. At least you have yourself convinced it is gone, over with, done. But actually, it is oozing out of that little box and slowly infiltrating other parts of your life. What you don't realize is how that goo starts crawling and creeping until everything in your brain, your experiences, your relationships - ALL of it is tainted by it. In the end, you can't view anything you are connected to without those slime-covered glasses. And, because you have to wear those glasses every day, you have now bought all the lies - hook, line and sinker.

Yeah, I know all the lines. Time will heal. God is with you. He won't give you more than you can handle (which is not in the bible, by the way). He will use this to grow you, etc. etc. etc. Well, at the moment, I think I have had all the growth that I can deal with for a while. Maybe this is blasphemous and I don't mean for it to be. I am just being very honest and true to what I am feeling.

Frankly, I am not finding much comfort in this dark cavern where I find myself residing. It's going to be a long, long road out of this place. At least He has made it very, very clear that the timing is right for all of this. And, I know He is providing the flashlight for the way out. But, it is still very scary. I can't see the end, only what is right in front of me. I keep tripping and stumbling over rocks, groping for something to hold onto and everything seems to covered in that cold slime from my past. Did I really give it all away for this? Oh, I am ready for the end of this journey!

Blessings

Although it seems like yesterday that I did a "blessings in my life" post, life has thrown me an incredible curve ball and I am inclined to do it again.

1) Our business continues to grow in a year of job loss, economic downturn and dismal news. CNN could take a lesson and NOT go to commercial break with the following line, "Back in a moment with more grim stories." Ours is a niche market that actually does as well in down times as in up. But still, I salute my hard-working, stressed to the max husband, who slaves at this business from the moment he wakes to the moment he goes to sleep.

2) We are striving to play together as a family again. It takes serious planning and effort to do this. We joined the YWCA in town and have made the commitment to go once during the weekend and once during the week, together, all 5 of us, swimming. It has brought laughter and smiles. And, we all love the feeling of getting the blood flowing again in the form of exercise. Slothful weekend living...BE GONE!

3) We are going skiing this weekend. Right now, there are several things that do not bode well for this trip. It is supposed to rain, not snow, most of the weekend. The family that is going with us has sick children - one very sick one, too. And, without going into too many details, I am not quite mentally focused either. But, I will be thankful because of the opportunity and know that whatever happens, well, is supposed to happen. We are going as a family. It will be fun.

4) My little grandfather, in the latter stages of Alzheimer's, is holding his own in the hospital with a bout of pneumonia. I haven't seen him mutter a noise in a while, nor have his eyes open. I am thankful that when I went to visit him this morning, he opened his eyes, looked at me and made the attempt to speak. It was completely unintelligible, but I would like to believe he was saying hello, asking what I had been up to and complimenting little Lily who had accompanied me.

5) A reconnect with a friend of Ansley's in college brought me joy this week.

6) That I have friends far and near who I love and who love me.

7) Despite what I feel is a day of reckoning for me, that I can see glimpses of His mark all over it.

8) Noggin. I know, I am reaching here to put a tv channel in my list of blessings, but when you are mentally preoccupied, at least there is something your child can watch that she loves and you feel ok about. I will declare that their slogan, "It's like preschool on television," is a farce, but hey, it does make it a bit more palatable.

9) Ridiculously large volcano-shaped chocolate brownie (3 packages worth), covered with thick, rich chocolate icing, and snow-white icing peak. We won it at the cub scouts' dessert auction. Each time I walk by it on the kitchen counter, I take a bite with the fork that rests permanently on the side of the platter.

10) TobyMac. He speaks to my heart these days. I took E & S to Winter Jam last Saturday night. It was their first concert. He was the headliner. Some time ago, I think that man walked in a pair of shoes that seem to be perfectly fitted for me these days. I am thankful for his obedience to sing for Him. And thus, he is a blessing me.

Bonus blessing...this is my 200th post! A milestone, I believe, for me.

I could stand to hear how you are thankful for what is in your life - no matter how trivial it may seem. I need some other perspectives, please.

Songs From My Childhood

Someone created a new "note" on facebook yesterday that completely sucked me into the lost time vortex. I spent entirely too long on answering questions about myself and well, frankly, am a bit embarrassed by my attention to it. The note, you ask? "Music That Shaped My Life."

Unless you have been residing on an Amish farm, you are probably familiar with "notes" on facebook. Maybe you have never completed one, but I know you have been tagged in one or, out of curiosity, have read one. Now, you and I sit here knowing entirely too much about each other and also about people we haven't seen since high school graduation. I think we feel as if completing more of these questionnaires somehow gives us the right to browse others' responses. Honestly, I know your life doesn't hinge upon whether you know if I have ever sat on a roof, caught a snowflake on my tongue or what my "Goth Name" would be. Black Dixie, by the way. And who in their right mind has answered "yes" to the YES/NO survey question "Have you ever used heroine?" We read this information, no, make that, obsess over this newly revealed and utter useless data like somehow all of this dictates whether we will remain friends or dreadfully delete each other in the dark of night. Regardless, we fill them out, pour over others and in our never ending quest to satisfy our own infinite curiosity, forward these suckers on hoping to have others join us in procrastinating on what we don't really want to do each day. For me, it was cleaning the kids room with a garbage bag, goodwill box and chlorox. Ok, so maybe facebook notes aren't so bad after all. I digress.

So, I receive this "facebook note" and immediately begin pouring over it. Seemed simple enough. Answer a few questions about meaningful music throughout my life. But, holy moly, did it make me work and dig into the recesses of my brain. My memory stinks. I had to search google and youtube with bits and pieces of titles and artists. For example, my need to answer the question, "A song that is linked to romance" brought only little snippets of melody and lyrics of an artist that made me swoon in high school, Terence Trent D'Arby. But despite this deep affection for him during my teenage years, I could only muster up the words, "terrence seven and song" in my search engine. And the word "seven" only burst forth because I remember being grounded for a week during my time of D'Arby love. On the first night of the grounding, a boyfriend at the time sneaked a tape of D'Arby's music into my unlocked car, which included the song "Seven More Days" in reference to my grounding. Regardless, the three word search (with misspelled first name Terence) revealed my complete artists' name and opportunity to listen once again. I took the moment to enjoy a brief walk down memory lane. Interesting how the mind connects memories. This also gives validation to why it took me so long to formulate answers to this note.

The first question on the note is: Song from childhood? I thought this was a pretty easy one. My answer: "Rainbow Connection" sung by Kermit the Frog. In fact the entirety that is the Muppets, the shows, movies, board game, stuffed animals, puppets and Christmas special are indelible in my mind. I still have the board game and Kermit in my footlocker of childhood memories in our basement storage room. The first Christmas in what I consider to be my childhood home, I was woken up by the sound of The Muppets Movie album playing on my new, deluxe record player with built-in speakers (pre-jambox days). Many days were spent singing along with my sister, also a Muppets freak. I was only 6, it was understandable. But she was 8, what was her excuse?

Never satisfied with an answer on these questionnaires, I dove into the memory files of those early days and came up with two more headliners. The soundtrack to the movie "Grease" and Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall." The movie "Grease" was released the summer before I entered 2nd grade which was 1978. I saw the movie at the old Town Centre Theater on Parris which is now Fuji Steakhouse. Notice the British spelling choice of the word "Centre" did nothing to deter its demise. This was my first exposure to a musical, even if in the movie form and I was hooked. I played this album until I knew every word, could act out every scene...people, I WAS Sandy. Occasionally, I would venture into the role of "Danny" played by John Travolta in all of his Aqua Velva, black comb and cuffed jean glory. As Danny, I would sing the song, "Sandy," while kicking a used “D” battery in lieu of the tin can that he kicked around after being ditched by Sandy at the drive-in. I know, it makes no sense. My transformation as Sandy was not complete until I donned a pair of pants a least a size too small (short and tight), my mom's high heels, scavenged a straw to use as a cigarette and sang, "Tell me about it, Stud." Wild, rebellious Sandy, a persona I thought was much cooler than goody-two-shoes Sandy. The highlight of my 7th birthday slumber party was a talent show at which every girl present sang or danced, surprise, to the song of their choice off the "Grease" album.

"Off the Wall" came a year later. Michael Jackson's first solo album was released in 1979, which was the year that marked my foray into formal jazz lessons at Lilo Ford's Dance studio. At 21, Michael Jackson was the original-skin, pre-plastic surgery, pre-pedophilia and let’s face it, less scary icon. Michael Jackson, the 1.0 version. In other words, he was still loved by millions across the globe – and not just Asia. This was also the soft spoken Michael Jackson who emitted little woo-hoo’s during his songs, which proceeded the grunting out of frustration “Billy Jean” phase. The entire dance recital that year had a nursery rhyme theme. Because our class had 10 girls in it, we were assigned the 10 Little Indians. Now how this is connected to Michael Jackson, I will never know, but our chosen performance song was to his first single off the album, “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough.” And let me tell you…as a little girl, dressed up in a fringed skirt and feather head piece, capped off with my mother’s inexperience at applying stage make-up, I worked that “seaweed” dance move, the kicks and step-ball-changes until my little body couldn’t work it anymore. Which might be classified as a miracle in itself given the sheer volume of face paint my mother swathed on me out of fear that my face might be lost in the glare of the stage lighting. I guess a “hooker” was better than being “faceless.”

Those are the songs of my childhood. Certainly none of them rank up there as the all-time greatest songs in history. My interpreted singing and dancing didn’t add a thing to them and may have actually lowered their credibility. But, they were my entry into what would become a life-long love of music.

Because for most of us music is linked to our memories, this should enlighten others to your moods and phases of life. If nothing else, it clearly gives away your age! If your memory is like mine, you may need to list group names rather than song titles. You may not be able to limit to just one song. Take your time, use google and you tube. That is ok with this note. Further commentary as to your choices is appreciated. Delete my answers, fill in your own, and forward to others at will...

1. Song from childhood? Rainbow Connection by Kermit the Frog (Muppets in general)
A little later...Michael Jackson's Off the Wall. My first album.

2. Your high school class song? Free Bird by Lynard Skynard (I know, what were we thinking?) At least it is a considered a classic, right?

3. Your first CD?
The Four Seasons by Vivaldi

4. Song most memorable or favored from your teenage years? I have a few..
What I Am by Edie Brickell
The Cemetery Gates by The Smiths
The entire INXS "Kick"album, played before tennis matches
The English Beat, The Church, The Connells and U2
The Descendants fed my punk/angst side
Something ridiculous by Tone-Loc spurred on by Jennifer
Guns N Roses driving to N.DavidsonHS for classes with Katie and Chip

5. Song most memorable or favored from college or young adult years?
The first year of college - hands down, The Indigo Girls and Jane's Addiction
Later...ABBA Gold, Dillon Fence. Bizarre singles - "Ebeneezer Goode" by the Shamen (I wonder if anyone will know that song) and "Supermodel (You better work) by RuPaul.
Scott J. and Elizabeth S. help me out here.

6. Song linked to any job? And, really, why?
Hmmmm - The soundtrack to the musical RENT (to make me feel like I had not sold out) and Madonna's Ray of Light CD (I was in sales and this got my blood flowing)

7. A song that brings you infinite happiness?
"In Christ Alone" because of Ansley. In her last few months, I remember her standing, bald, both hands in the air singing with all her heart to this song. Sad, but fantastically beautiful. Also "Ill Fly Away" the Jars of Clay song. One of her funeral picks that we had much discussion about.

8. A song linked to sad times?
Paul Simon's "Graceland" which was given to me by my father the first Christmas my parents were divorced. Sad, but I still love the album.

9. What song is linked to some angst/rebellion for you?
"Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. Will never forget the first time I heard it and what it did to me.

10. A song that is linked to romance? Jeff Buckley (I can barely listen to him), Sade, Barry White (who doesn't think of that with him on?), and Terence Trent D'arby (although he is so cheesy to look at)

11. A song you wish you had never heard? Anything by Slim Whitman because Ansley tormented me with the ridiculous notion that I loved him and wanted to be married to him. Despite the utter impossibility of this idea, she would drive me to tears with this fact. Hate even hearing his name.

12. A song that won't leave your head? "Nah nah nah nah, Hey Hey Hey Good bye"

13. A song that was played at your wedding (or you would like played there)? I Will be Here by Michael W. Smith, but performed by a friend. Nice, but would probably not choose it again. Correction noted below - Steven Curtis Chapman, not MWS.

14. A song that you will admit, for the first time, loving? Barbara Streisand, "A Piece of Sky Actually, I'll just say it - I like most her stuff. While I am at it - Neil Diamond, ok?

15. Your favorite 'wild times/party' song?
In the Netherlands - "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor and a Dutch song "Vlieg Met Me (Naar de Regenboog) by Paul De Leeuw. But, whenever I was going out in the US and heard this song, it was always an awesome night..."Big Country" by Big Country. I know, strange.

16. Your best road trip song? Journey, REM, Boston, Alison Krauss, Bob Marley. Anything I can sing to, or rather warble to.

17. Your favorite sad/quiet times song? "Praise You in the Storm" by Casting Crowns and "Valley of the Vision" CD. Other quiet times...Nina Simone (slightly depressing jazz) and Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers

18. What is in your CD player or the last song on your mp3 player? Car CD player TobyMac, Alvin & the Chipmonks, WOW 2009 and 2 Veggie Tales CD. I have kids.

19. What is your current fav? TOBYMAC! Love him!

20. Your all-time favorite song? I'll come back to this one. Really need to contemplate.

BONUS QUESTION:
Your life's song, ya know, what song best describes your life? "Lifesong" acoustic version by Casting Crowns - to be played at my funeral.

I added this one: Song to my kids: " Lovely Day" by Bill Withers

A Fresh Scent

I remember when he came home smelling like cheap perfume. "Hell-oooo," he called as he entered the house after a day at work. He made his way to the bedroom where I was dressing a child after a bath. He bent down to give me a kiss upon the cheek. As he did, my nose sniffed and my back stiffened a bit. There was a different scent surrounding him.

I was used to years of the stale scent of cigarettes, sterile office funk and even sometimes a bit of his greasy lunch. However, for the last several months, he had been fighting the addiction of nicotine. An addiction of 15 years that was a monster with which to be reckoned. But, he was determined and well, was forced to end it because of suffering a mild heart attack at only 34. During our 8 years of knowing each other, I had never known his "normal" scent. It had always been masked by the heaviness of a pack a day habit. But, within the first week of his battle, his natural smell slowly emerged, as years of the toxins slowly released from his pores. But what my nose hinted at this evening was not this newly known scent, this was more floral.

"What is that smell?" I asked.
"What smell?" he immediately responded.
"You smell like cheap perfume." I said with a little bit of indignity.
"I do? No I don't," he said.
Did Tammy (his assistant) wear something new that somehow caught wind of you?" I inquired.
"No," he said as he walked into the closet to change clothes.

The next day, upon entering our house, he leaned to give the "honey, I am home" peck on the cheek.
"AHA! I smell it again!" I exclaimed. "I know I smell something, Jay."
"What?" he said.
"You know exactly what I am talking about!" I began to shout. "What is going on? I want to know." I could feel the bile begin to rise in my throat, my heart beating faster and faster. This couldn't be happening.
He hung his head and I knew this couldn't be good.
He began to mutter, "It is Febreeze."
"Febreeze?" I said, completely flabbergasted. "What are you talking about?"
His words spilling quickly from his mouth, "I have started smoking again and I didn't want you to know. So, to mask the smell, I started spraying myself with Febreeze before getting out of the car. I am sorry."
"Ok, that is THE most ridiculous thing I have ever heard," I said. "Febreeze." I let out a deep breath. With much relief I hugged him and told him to take a shower. I wanted that scent gone!